mickeym

Title: All I Want
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG13
Word Count: ~400
Warnings: Incest
Disclaimer: They're not mine, and I'm not making any money off them.
Spoilers: Minor reference to In My Time of Dying
Notes: I did this, originally, in

wendy's journal, as comment!fic. But the whole Sam-speaking-Latin thing seems to be very big, so I figured I'd share with the rest of y'all. Hope you enjoy it :) (This one has nothing to do with the long one I posted last week.)

Summary: Sam asks for what he wants.

"I dare you, Sammy." Dean's not sure why he's pushing, except there's something about Sam's voice, about the way the words turn from just words, into something like magic.

Which was kind of the point behind Latin rites anyway, a magic of sorts, but Sam elevated it to a whole different level.

"You're not serious." Sam shakes his head. "Dude--" Whatever he was about to say dies on Sam's lips, and Dean watches bemusement turn to. Something. A sly smile slides across Sam's mouth, and for just a second Dean can still see that mouth swollen, wet, wrapped around his cock. The visual isn't helped -- or maybe it is -- when Sam licks his lips. "Okay."

Dean folds his arms across his chest and leans back against the tree, wiggling until he's comfortable. "Any time, Sammy. I'm not gettin' any younger, over here."

"Jerk," Sam says absently, thumbing through a few loose pages he'd stuck in the back of Dad's journal. Their journal now, really. He raises an eyebrow at whatever it is he finds there, then clears his throat and looks up at Dean. "Last chance to change your mind."

"Not in a million years, Princess. Give it your best shot." And not in a million years is Dean ever going admit just how much it turns him on to listen to that magic flow out of Sam.

"Veneri pol habeu gratiam--" Sam's voice drops just a little, roughens around the edges, and Dean takes a slow, deep breath to try and hide the shiver working its way over his body. "--eandemque et oro et quaeso, ut eius mihi sit copia quem amo quemque expetesso benignusque erga me ut siet, quod cupiam ne gravitur."

Heat slides over Dean, goosebumps rippling behind, and every nerve in his body is screaming at him to move, grab Sam, pull him in close. Touch him, taste him, lose himself in his brother. Dean swallows and looks at Sam, at the heat simmering in his eyes, pupils blown wide and dark.

"What--" He has to stop to breathe, the words getting lost between his brain and his mouth. The closer Sam comes to him -- when did he start to move? -- the worse it gets, and the better it feels. Dean reaches out to grab at Sam's shirt, hauling him in close. "What did you do?" He demands, mouth hovering just above Sam's, so close but not close enough.

"I asked for you," Sam says quietly, the words lost in Dean's mouth when he closes that distance, mouth moving over Sam's desperately.